


Pleased To Meet You (Hope You Guess My Name)

by Brenda



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Political Animals
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Anal Sex, Awesome Flirting, Banter, Dirty Talk, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Favorite Baseball Teams Are Super Serious Business, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Series, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, TJ Hammond Deserves All The Happiness Ever, TJ Is Not A Bucky Substitute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:52:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7843858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Hey, Nana, I gotta go," he says, running mentally through all of his best opening lines.  He's going to need his A-game for this.  "I need to go introduce myself to my future husband."</i>
</p><p>  <i>Margaret laughs again.  "Just be sure to invite your grandmother to the wedding."</i></p><p>  <i>"Sure thing," TJ replies, not really paying any attention, and hangs up without saying goodbye.  He's sure Nana'll understand, though.  She's always understood the pursuit of hot men; it's one of her best qualities. </i><br/> </p><p>Or: TJ and Steve meet cute in a Starbucks and shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [relenafanel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/relenafanel/gifts).



> This originally started as a short series on Tumblr as a gift-slash-bribe for Relenafanel, and sort of grew. The only two things worth noting are a) it's post-Political Animals and post-Avengers, and b) Bucky doesn't really exist in this 'verse. (SORRY BUCKY ILU!!!)

"For the last time, Nana, it's not happening," TJ says, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder as he holds the door at Starbucks open for a group of teenage girls to pass through. They all smile brightly at him and thank him pretty much in unison, and he smiles back, charmed.

"Thomas James Hammond," his grandmother says, her voice fond but exasperated, "you're breaking your poor grandmother's heart right now."

If he had a dollar for every time she's pulled the full name trick on him, he could probably retire to Fiji by now.

"Sorry, I'm calling bullshit. And that's ten points for the passive aggressiveness, and another ten for the guilt trip, but you lose five points for the lack of originality," he says, shouldering past another group of girls so he can get to the back of the line. School must be out for the day – either that, or every teenage girl within a ten block radius all of a sudden has a craving for frappuccinos.

"You're awful," Margaret replies, but laughs, light and musical. "You sure I can't change your mind? It's for a good cause."

"Don't care. I wouldn't go even if you promised me a Ryan Gosling and James McAvoy threesome at the end of it."

She scoffs, amused. "Liar, you'd sell the entire family to the Russian mob just for the chance to have James McAvoy talk to you for five minutes."

"I have a fondness for Scottish accents, sue me," he replies, then there's a break in the line, and he sees his Future with a capital F that stands for Fine As Fuck standing at the front of it. "Jesus fucking Christ," he breathes, stunned.

"I hope you're planning on elaborating."

"Sorry, I just saw..." He cranes his head around the person in front of him, and yeah, the view at the front is... _wow_. 

Said view is tall and muscled and blond and wearing only a short pair of black running shorts and a white tank top so clingy it may as well have been invisible. TJ's never believed in love at first sight, but now all he can think about is a lifetime of waking up next to that body and how that would be totally okay with him. Someone who looked like that would be worth monogamy.

"Hey, Nana, I gotta go," he says, running mentally through all of his best opening lines. He's going to need his A-game for this. "I need to go introduce myself to my future husband."

Margaret laughs again. "Just be sure to invite your grandmother to the wedding."

"Sure thing," TJ replies, not really paying any attention, and hangs up without saying goodbye. He's sure Nana'll understand, though. She's always understood the pursuit of hot men; it's one of her best qualities. 

TJ takes a minute to go over his appearance, thankful as all hell that he's come from class and not from the gym. He's wearing a nice pair of jeans that he knows shows off his ass, his white t-shirt and blue-striped vest combination is pretty on point and brings out his eyes, and he's pretty sure he's having a good hair day, so he's good to go. 

But fuck, it's been a long time since he's been the one to approach someone. He's much more used to being the object of someone's affection or lust or attention than playing the part of pursuer. It's an interesting change of pace.

Then Hot, Blond, and Muscled finishes placing his order and goes to the other end of the counter to wait, and it's now or never. TJ steps out of the line and walks up to the counter himself, pretending to peruse the sandwiches and yogurt parfaits in the deli case as he casts a sidelong glance towards the other man. HB&M has beautifully large hands, a granite-like jaw, super-full, soft-looking lips, and the longest lashes TJ has ever seen on anyone, male or female. Just looking at him is like a getting a lifetime of Christmas and birthday gifts all rolled into a single person.

"I _really_ hope you're not married or super-straight, because this is gonna be embarrassing as hell if you are."

He hadn't even been aware he'd spoken loud enough to be overheard until the other man turns and smiles, wide and dimpled and _wow_ , TJ can see the future in that smile, and it's everything he's ever wanted _ever_. 

"Why, are you asking me out?" HB&M asks, with a quick, but very thorough, perusal that manages to knock all the breath from TJ's lungs. "Because if you look as good under your clothes as you do in them, I might be tempted to say yes to whatever it is you're offering."

TJ blinks, itching all over with how much he wants to yank the other man to him by his tank top and nibble on his lower lip until they're both breathless and wanting. "Better," he manages, proud of himself for actually responding in English. "I look better."

Bright blue eyes darken, and the dimpled smile turns into the world's hottest smirk. "I'm Steve," he says, offering his hand. 

TJ takes it on autopilot, and he's never been the sort to believe in instant connections, either, but the fissure of heat racing up his spine at the feel of strong fingers closing around his own is both a surprise, and somehow the most natural feeling in the world. "I'm TJ," he replies, and uses the grip to tug Steve a little closer to him. "Let me buy you dinner tonight. And breakfast tomorrow."

"What about lunch?" Steve teases, and rests his other hand right on TJ's hip, warm and proprietary. TJ vividly, violently wishes they were someplace with a lot less people and a lot more in the way of a bed or couch or any other flat surface.

"I'll let you buy lunch," he replies, with a smile of his own that he knows has to be crazy-wide and goofy, but he doesn't care. "In the interest of fair play and all."

"What about your plans for the next hour?" Steve asks, with another slow sweeping gaze along TJ's body.

If it means keeping that gaze on him and those hands on him, TJ would be willing to rearrange his entire life, let alone the rest of his afternoon. "Why?" he asks, hoping like hell Steve's about to make him an offer he can't refuse.

"Well, I'm a little sweaty from my run." Steve's lashes flick down as he moistens those ridiculously full lips. It's a calculated move, smooth as silk, and effective as hell. TJ's ready to go to his knees right now, public place and scandal to follow be damned. "And I was hoping you'd want to help me scrub my back."

"Now?" TJ asks, eager, and not bothering to hide it. "You live nearby?" _Please say you live nearby._

Steve leans in and rubs his lips across TJ's, the kiss as light as air, and twice as sexy because of it, and smiles. "Three blocks."

TJ's pretty sure he can make it three blocks without stripping Steve where he stands. Maybe. Probably. He returns the kiss, just a quick drag of his lips on Steve's, and offers what he knows is his best full-on smolder. 

"What are we waiting for?"

***


	2. Chapter 2

TJ's been with more than his fair share of guys in his day (girls, too, because, hey, keeping one's options open is a good thing, and some days he's more bi than others), but none of the other men he's ever been with have been remotely in the same league as Steve. None of the other sex he's had – and he's had some pretty spectacular sex – has ever come close to the way he feels when he and Steve are together. 

Because this is fucking perfect right here; this is the reason why TJ is pretty sure what he's feeling for Steve is true fucking love. Steve under him on TJ's bed while TJ rides him nice and slow, Steve's cock stretching him nice and wide with every push down. Steve's hands cradling his hips, urging him on in a low, wrecked tone. Those bright blue eyes clouded over with passion, watching him like there's nowhere on earth he'd rather be, his wide chest and toned stomach all slick with sweat and TJ's come – yeah, there's nothing that comes close to this.

Except maybe when it's Steve riding _his_ dick. Because if there's anything that's better than Steve's cock nice and deep inside him, it's the way Steve's ass grips _his_ cock like he can't get enough of the way TJ fucks him.

"Gonna keep you just like this," Steve murmurs, flexing his hips up to meet the downward push of TJ's. "All full of my cock, my marks all over you..." He runs light fingers across the bruises and bite marks on TJ's stomach and inner thighs. Marks he'd put on TJ earlier, when he'd laid TJ out on the bed and gone over every inch of him with an eager mouth and possessive hands. TJ had never wanted him to stop.

He never wants _anything_ Steve does to him to stop.

"I'd let you..." TJ bites off the word as a groan wells up in his throat. Steve's hitting his prostate _perfectly_ , fucking up into him so good and deep that TJ's honestly lost for words. He falls forward, squeezes tight around Steve's cock, as he captures Steve's lips for a wet, messy kiss. Strong hands grip his lower back, holding him right where he is as Steve picks up the pace, no longer gentle, no longer slow.

TJ suckles on Steve's tongue, buries his whimper with another kiss, then another after that. He tries to meet Steve's thrusts with his own, but gives up after a minute, and lets Steve take control. His own cock is trapped between them, sliding slick and hot against his own stomach and Steve's, and the friction is perfect, just rough enough against the head of his dick to rev him all the way up to ten. Steve's making these huffing little pained noises every time he slams up, and TJ swallows every one of them, loses himself in the smell and taste and feel of Steve all around him and in him.

He rides the knife's edge of his orgasm as long as he possibly can before giving in to the inevitable, shudders and shakes in Steve's arms as he comes, hot and sticky, in the crease of Steve's hip. Steve follows after another few thrusts, moaning long and low in TJ's mouth, and they ride the comedown slow and steady, with stroking fingers and lazy kisses. 

TJ knows he's got the biggest and sappiest grin on his face when he lifts his head, but since Steve's also smiling up at him, all relaxed and hazy-eyed, TJ figures it's cool. He's never been with anyone before who's made him feel so comfortable with just being himself, with being imperfect and silly and a little sentimental. It's a great feeling.

"Fifty points for effort and another fifty for style," he says, thumbing a few matted strands of hair from Steve's forehead. "And, since I'm feeling _very_ generous, fifty more points for execution."

"Do I get double points for making you come twice?" Steve asks, nipping at TJ's thumb when it strays too close to his teeth.

"Sure, why not."

Steve cups his nape, brings him down for a series of soft kisses. "And if I were to offer to make breakfast tomorrow?" he asks, his breath hot and sweet against TJ's lips. "How many do I get then?"

"All the points," TJ promises, and loses track of time as Steve rolls them both over and settles himself in the vee of TJ's thighs, each kiss drugging and heated. Which is the other, _other_ best thing about being with Steve – he kisses TJ like there's nothing else he'd rather do in life. Kisses him like it's a privilege he's honored to accept, and infuses each one with a wealth of emotion that makes TJ feel cherished and adored. Like he's the most important person in Steve's world.

"I really don't want to leave the bed," he sighs, when they break for air. His lips are numb and bruised, and Steve's lips look just as reddened and full.

"I wish I could stay," Steve says. He rests his forehead against TJ's, his tone filled with regret. 

"I wish I could too." The last couple of months he and Steve have been a thing, TJ's politically social (for lack of a better thing to call it) calendar has miraculously been pretty empty. But his family's foundation has an official function tonight, and cancelling just so he can have more super-hot sex with his boyfriend isn't a good enough excuse. 

Well, it's probably a good enough excuse for Nana, and possibly Annie, but his parents and brother would never let it fly. Then again, they have no idea how fantastic Steve is in the sack, either.

He's not ready yet to introduce Steve to his family or his crazy life just yet, but the day is coming. He's in this as long as Steve wants him around, and from the way Steve acts around him, like making TJ happy is a full-time job he's happy to have, it's clear the interest is mutual.

Steve reluctantly sits up and ties off the condom, then tosses it in the trashcan. "I should be done with my work thing by 10, 11 at the very latest," he says. "You wanna maybe meet for a drink when I'm done?"

"We could," TJ replies, feeling a little too fucked out and lazy to move just yet. "Or maybe we can skip the drinks and we can meet here after we're both done and I can just blow you for awhile, then eat your ass out until you're begging me to fuck you..."

"Yeah, okay, that sounds better," Steve groans, and hauls TJ up to him for a thorough, messy kiss. (TJ, it must be noted, finds Steve's strength stupidly, _stupidly_ hot. He's never been with anyone before who's been strong enough to hold him down easily during sex. He'd never even realized it was a turn on for him until Steve.)

"I'll be done with my thing by 11:30, promise," he says, and wraps his arms around Steve's neck. "You have the key I gave you, right?"

Steve's eyes go soft and gentle when he nods. "I do," he says, affection bleeding into every word. "Keep it right next to the key to my place."

Yeah, sure, it's probably way too soon to trust Steve with a key, but TJ's finally at a place in his life where he can trust his instincts, and every single one of them has told him that Steve's an upstanding guy. That Steve would never abuse the trust TJ's placed in him, not for any reason.

"I really wish I didn't have this thing tonight," he sighs.

"I know, me too," Steve says, and sighs himself. "Work things are a pain in my ass."

"Mine's a family thing. Also a pain." And Jesus, he loves that he's with probably the only man on the planet who seems not to know he's _the_ TJ Hammond. It's heady, exhilarating, makes him feel like he's getting away with something. Sure, sooner or later, he knows he needs to come clean and tell Steve who he really is – who his family is – but they can make it work. TJ _wants_ them to make it work. He's not in politics, and he's not in the public eye very much these days (aforementioned family functions aside), so hopefully they can keep a private profile. 

It's scary – or it _should_ be scary, but it isn't – how much TJ loves that Steve is someone he can completely call his own.

"I'll text you when I'm on my way here," Steve says.

"Same here," TJ replies, then drags a very willing Steve into the shower with him.

***

"You seem distracted, Thomas," Margaret says, and hands him a flute of champagne. Already, this is officially the longest night on record, and TJ hasn't even been here an hour. He's done the meet and greet and mingle thing, has smiled at bad jokes so much he feels like his face is about to crack right in half, and endured so well-meaning probes into his recovery and mental health that he wants to strangle someone. His folks and his brother might be cut out for the razor-sharp world of politics, but it's not at all something TJ's ever wanted. He's happy with his very boring, very private life – with his three years plus of sobriety and his regular NA meetings and therapist meetings, and going back to school to earn his music theory doctorate, and giving piano lessons to underprivileged kids on his free afternoons. It's not a glamourous life, but glamor, frankly, sucks balls, and not in a good way. 

He accepts the glass with a kiss to a papery-thin cheek, and gives his grandmother a small shrug. He'd just needed a minute away from the crush of people, but he's glad she'd found him in the alcove just by the doors. "Got a hot date later," he says, and rests his shoulders against the wall so he can keep an eye out for Doug or his mom or dad. "I guess I'm not all here tonight."

"Ah yes, with Steve, is it?" Margaret asks, peering up at him through too shrewd eyes.

"Yeah, Steve." TJ knows his voice has gone all soft and swoony, but it's Nana, so he's safe. She's the only one in the family so far that knows about Steve. Who knows his days of playing the field are behind him, that he's a one-man man and pretty happy about it.

"You really are sweet on him, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am," he admits, with a smile. "He's a really great guy."

Margaret pats his arm, smiles right back at him. "You should bring him over sometime, introduce me to him."

"I will, Nana, I promise. And soon. It's just...he doesn't know who I am, and it's been amazing having that sort of anonymity, and... _Steve_?" 

He's seeing things. Has to be. There's no way he just saw Steve – _his_ Steve – walk into the room wearing a Captain America uniform. What the fuck...?

He's handing his glass back to Nana and striding forward before he even realizes his feet are moving, and crosses the room to where Steve – and it's definitely his Steve, TJ would recognize those shoulders and that ass anywhere – is shaking the hand of some senator. Dunlop, maybe, or Brown, TJ doesn't remember and doesn't care. 

He doesn't even acknowledge the senator or his wife, just tugs at Steve's elbow and whirls him around.

Steve's polite look quickly morphs into surprise, then dismay, all in such rapid succession TJ feels dizzy with it. 

" _TJ_?" Steve asks, his eyes wide, his mouth thinned out. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you had a family thing?"

"I thought you had a work thing," TJ retorts, and gestures helplessly at Steve's costume. "What the hell, it's not even Halloween, why are you dressed like...?"

He stops, horrified, as the realization crashes over him. 

" _You're_ Steve Rogers?" he asks – croaks, really. Fuck, how had he not put two and two together? He's seen enough footage of Captain America on the news and online – either in press conferences or fighting off enough threats – that he should have figured it out.

Steve nods and shrugs, helpless-looking and sheepish. "I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you, but I'd never met anyone ever who didn't know who I was and it felt so... I mean I just wanted... Whatever, it's no excuse. I'm sorry."

"Jesus." TJ feels like he's been sucker-punched. Part of him's laughing a little at the irony that Steve has been keeping his real identity a secret for the same reason TJ has his own, but most of him is still in some serious shock. Steve is Steve Rogers. Captain freakin' America. An Avenger. Someone who saves the world on a regular basis. 

TJ has had Captain America's cock up his ass. _His_ cock has been up Captain America's ass. 

"When the fuck were you going to tell me?" he demands, once he can breathe again. Dimly, he's aware that the senator and his wife are watching the entire conversation with interest, but he can't think about that now. Steve's still looking at him with a hangdog expression, and toying with the cuffs of his costume. His, it must be said, very well-fitting costume. (TJ may be in shock, okay, but he's still only human, and Steve’s body is always worth checking out.)

"I'm really sorry," Steve says again, blue eyes bleeding so much earnest contrition that TJ's drowning in it. "I'll understand if you don't – fuck, I'm sorry, this'll just take a minute. Please don't go anywhere."

He straightens to his full height as TJ's mother walks up to them, a welcoming smile on her face. "Captain, I'm so glad you could make it tonight," she says. "I see you've met my son, TJ, already."

Steve winces slightly. "Yes ma'am, and I was just apologizing and – I'm sorry, did you say your _son_?"

TJ groans as Steve just turns back to him, and lifts an eyebrow and waits. Payback, it seems, is indeed a bitch. "I was gonna tell you," TJ says, with his own miserable shrug. "It was just never a good time."

Elaine glances between them. "You two know each other already?"

TJ chuckles mirthlessly under his breath. This is a disaster – but what else is new where his life is concerned. "Yeah, you could say that."

"I thought you were a grad student," Steve accuses, with a pointed look.

"Yeah, well, I thought you were in security, so we're even," TJ shoots back.

"I _am_ in security."

"Yeah, securing the entire goddamn _world_. And, for the record, I really am a grad student." 

"I believe you," Steve says, and brushes a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not mad at you, and I hope you're not mad at me. I mean, if you are, I'll apologize as much as –"

"No, this is my fault, I should have said something. I never meant –"

They stop again when TJ's grandmother joins the group. "So much commotion, Thomas," she says, with a broad grin. "You and the Captain have a lot of eyes on you."

Great. Just what he needs. More fucking publicity over his love life. He takes a deep breath, and gives Steve a pained smile. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I guess I just liked the idea that you were with me because of _me_ , and not because of my last name."

"I _am_ with you for you," Steve says, and reaches out, catches TJ's hand with his fingers. "And I didn't tell you about me for the same reason. It's been nice to be with someone who doesn't care that I'm Captain America."

"Which I don't, by the way." Then TJ smirks, and waggles his eyebrows. Because this is utterly ridiculous, and they may as well have a little bit of fun with it. "Although I will say that the outfit does show off all of your best attributes."

"Well, the tux you're wearing is giving me a lot of ideas – uh, no offense, Madame Vice President." Steve's face is delightfully pink.

"You two have been seeing each other?" Elaine asks, and her tone is deceptively mild, but TJ's pretty sure his mother is having a heart attack right about now.

" _This_ is your Steve?" Margaret asks, flapping her hand in Steve's general direction.

"Yes and yes," he replies, then turns back to Steve, suddenly unsure. "Unless you don't _want_ to be –"

"Don't even think of finishing that sentence," Steve says, then pulls him in for a hard, fast kiss with just a hint of teeth. "I'm yours, if you'll have me," he murmurs, with a hopeful, small smile.

"You bet your sweet ass I will," TJ replies, and returns the smile. Then he whispers in Steve's ear, low enough it stays between the two of them: "You know I gotta fuck you in that outfit at least once, though, right?"

Steve's cheeks are pink again, but his look promises all kinds of spectacular sex later on. "Only if you leave your tux on," he murmurs back, just as low.

Just the _idea_ of it – of peeling Steve out of the costume just enough to bare his ass and bending him over TJ's sofa or dining room table or it doesn't even matter, and unzipping just enough to get his cock out and deep in Steve's body, both of them too far gone for anything other than fast and rough? Yeah, TJ is pretty sure he'll do just about anything if that's what's in his immediate future. "You got it."

Steve smiles at him again, then turns to Elaine. "I'm really sorry, ma'am, if I've embarrassed you in any way."

"You and I are going to have a very long discussion about this later," Elaine tells TJ, but her look is mostly amused (which is good) and fiercely protective (which could be problematic, but it's not like she can yell at him too much – Captain America is literally a decorated hero and a national icon). "Captain, I have no idea how you and my son met, but if you're the one who's been responsible for how happy he's looked the last few weeks, you have just earned yourself the right to do pretty much whatever you want."

"He's definitely the reason," TJ says, and nudges Steve's shoulder, so happy he's pretty much floating on air. 

Steve wraps an arm around TJ's waist to keep him close. "The feeling's mutual."

"This is disgustingly adorable," Margaret declares. "I'm not sure if I should toast the both of you or run screaming in the opposite direction."

TJ laughs. "Hey, if it helps, I can tell you just how big Steve's –"

He's still laughing when Steve clamps a hand over his mouth. 

***


	3. Chapter 3

"So when am I meeting this guy who's managed to make the World's Most Polite Playboy finally settle down?"

Steve scowls at the nickname, but doesn't stop his warm-up. Just because he's genetically engineered is no reason to neglect the basics. Besides, he'd hate to set a bad example by working out without stretching. It's early yet, but he's learned the hard way there are always people watching. "I dunno, we're sort of playing it by ear and trying to stay low-key right now."

Sam makes a very unimpressed noise, and settles beside Steve to do his own stretches. "You were outed as a couple at a charity function his family was throwing. There are pictures of the two of you all up in each other's business from that same night on every gossip website there is. There's video of you making out with each other the next morning outside his front door. You've been photographed canoodling all over New York for the past –"

"I can't control what the paparazzi does –"

"You've met _his_ family already," Sam continues, talking over Steve. "It's time for _him_ to meet _yours_. I haven't gotten to give my speech in months."

"Not this again," Steve groans. "Last time I introduced you to someone I was seeing, you pissed them off enough to take a swing at you."

"I know." Sam grins like he's thrilled. "Anyone who can get riled up that easy definitely can't hang with you and all the shit you gotta put up with. I did you a favor, man. Admit it."

"Luis was really hot _and_ had a tongue piercing. How was that a favor?" As insanely happy as he is by the sheer inventiveness of his frankly amazing sex life with TJ, Steve does sometimes still miss the tongue piercing. It had been a lot of fun.

Sam shakes his head, and swings his arms over his head. "Well, the way I see it, if you'd stayed with Luis, you never would have met TJ Hammond, so, yeah, I did your star-spangled horny ass a favor. Besides, I bet TJ would totally get a tongue piercing for you. He seems the type."

Steve pictures TJ with a little ball on the end of his tongue and how well he could put it to use on every part of Steve's body, and gets instantly, dizzyingly hard. " _Fuck._ Me."

"Not exactly my type," Sam chuckles. "Parade rest, soldier, you and your little captain can wait until we're done with our run."

"You brought it up," Steve points out.

"I just wanna meet the man, that's all. Hang out, get to know him a little bit. I promise not to piss him off."

Steve sets off on a slow (for him) jog, and waits for Sam to catch up to him before speaking up gain. Sam does make a good point. And, in all honestly, Sam really is the closest thing to family he's got in the 21st century. "He mentioned having an extra ticket to the Dodgers/Yankees game this weekend. Is that good enough for you?"

"Heck yeah," Sam replies. "Baseball and hot dogs and hanging out with my boy and his new boy? Wouldn't miss it."

***

It's not until Steve and Sam are walking up to Babe Ruth Plaza to meet TJ that Steve starts to rethink his entire relationship with one TJ Hammond. Because there are things Steve can overlook and things he can accept – compromise is an important component of any relationship, and it's not like Steve is inflexible. He can totally be an adult and talk things over or agree to disagree if it's clear an agreement can't or won't be reached.

But there are just some things that are sacred. And some treacheries that simply cut too deep.

"No, no, and hell no," Steve states, as soon as he and Sam get within talking distance of the traitor that is his boyfriend. "I can't even look at you right now wearing that atrocity on your head." 

He wonders if he ever knew TJ at all, or if everything they've shared has been a lie.

"You're one to talk," TJ says. "You with your hat and shirt and, ugh, that fucking blue is just offensive. Minus _all_ the damn points." He sounds betrayed and hurt, which is a rich irony, considering _he's_ the who's betraying Steve's trust here.

Sam frowns, and looks between both of them like he's lost. "What the hell, man? Anyone wanna clue me in?"

Steve gestures at TJ's Yankees ballcap. "Tell him to take that thing off. It's offending my democratic morals or values or whatever it is I'm supposed to have."

"The hat stays," TJ says, stubborn to the end in his sheer wrongness. "Jesus, Steve, you're Captain America. You need to root for America's team."

"Over my patriotic dead body," Steve states, and shudders. "The day I root for the Yankees is the day they'll be putting me in a box." There's wrong and then there's just _wrong_.

Sam grins, wide and gap-toothed and way too amused. "Y'all are fucking _delightful_. This is better than watching a Shonda show."

"I'm dating a Yankees fan," Steve mourns. How is he even supposed to look himself in the mirror knowing he'd allowed a Yankees fan to fuck him? A Yankees fan has had his tongue up Steve's ass. "My poor mother is spinning in her grave."

"I'm in love with a fucking _Dodgers_ fan. I know how you feel."

Steve bristles. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with – wait, in _love_?"

TJ rolls his eyes. "It fucking _better_ be love, because I'm getting ready to walk into Yankees Stadium with you wearing that stupid fucking Dodgers hat and that equally stupid Dodgers shirt."

Steve's so shocked he momentarily forgets his righteous sense of ire that TJ roots for the Antichrist team of baseball. "I just want it noted for the record – in front of Sam here as witness – that when we move in together, we're having two separate man caves or whatever it is they're called. No way am I putting my Dodgers memorabilia next to anything Yankees related." 

Because unlike everyone else here, Steve vividly remembers the debacle of the 1941 World Series. He'll go to his grave hating the Yankees for the fiasco of Game 3 alone.

It's TJ's turn to look poleaxed. "You want to move in together?"

"I'm in love with you, too," Steve sighs, because he may as well face the sorry truth about his life and be done with it. "Horrific taste in teams and all. But you're never converting me to your team, so don't even bother. I'll bleed Dodger Blue until I die."

"I wish I was recording this," Sam says, happily. "I could make _so_ much money."

"As long as you don't try to convert me to the Dodgers, you've got a deal." TJ ducks his head under Steve's hat and presses a kiss to his lips. "At least we can agree baseball is the superior sport."

"You make a good point," Steve says, and pulls TJ to him by his belt loops. "And at least you're not a Giants fan."

TJ laughs, light and affectionate. "True. And you could be a Mets fan."

"I have _some_ standards."

"Yeah, I don't know about all that," Sam says, and sticks out his hand to TJ. "Sam Wilson, nice to meet you. I can already tell me and you are gonna get along just fine."

***

TJ wakes to the mouth-watering aroma of fresh brewed coffee and sizzling bacon. He stumbles into a pair of sleep pants and shuffles into his kitchen, yawning and scratching at his chest. Steve's standing at his stove, wearing only his boxers, and expertly flipping an omelet, his excellent hips shaking to the song playing low on the radio. 

"Fuck it," TJ says, watching the sway of Steve's ass with a reverence normally reserved for church. "You could root for the Red Sox and I'm still keeping you."

Steve turns and gives him a surprised little smile that totally does things for TJ's libido, as well as his heart. "That might be the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."

"It was either that or ask if I could eat the bacon off your abs."

"That actually sounds sort of interesting," Steve says, and tugs on TJ's hand until they're chest to chest, and kissing nice and soft. "Morning."

And a damn good one, too, TJ thinks. He's got the hottest man on the planet in his kitchen making him breakfast and putting those full, gorgeous lips to damn good use. And said hottest man is just as stupidly in love with TJ as TJ is with him. That qualifies as a totally great way to start the day. 

"And here I thought I wore you out too much last night for you to be up this early," he says, when they part for air.

"Super soldier," Steve says, with a shrug. Then he gives TJ a small smirk. "But I appreciate all the hard work you put into it last night. Maybe we can practice some more after breakfast."

TJ is a big fan of practice. And getting Steve naked again, because, well, it's Steve. "Good thing you made omelets, since I think I'll need the protein."

"Why'd you leave me wide open like that?" Steve groans. "Now if I don't make the obvious and terrible joke, I'll feel like I let you get away with something."

"But if you do make it, you might not get laid later, so, discretion valor and all that."

"Acceptable reason." Steve turns back to the stove. 

TJ presses against his back and kisses his nape. "Knew you'd see it my way."

Steve leans into him, all solid warmth and affection. "What's your stance on tongue piercings?" he asks, very studiously _not_ tilting his head to look at TJ.

"Why, you wanna go get one?" TJ asks, stunned and more than pleased. "I approve, if the answer is yes."

"I was thinking about you getting one, but sure, I could get one too. Assuming I _can_ actually get a piercing or a tattoo," Steve adds. "I'll have to ask Banner about that."

TJ flushes hot all over at the idea of Steve with a piercing. Or of himself with one tonguing Steve's ass. "No time like the present. Let's find a shop after breakfast." 

Steve shivers, and his cheeks turn bright pink. "In that case, you can keep the Yankees as your team."

"All the points for the acceptable compromise," TJ states, and seals the deal with a loud smack to Steve's ass. Damn, it's good to be him sometimes.

***


	4. Chapter 4

TJ's really not much of one for going to all of the formal functions and to-dos his family gets invited to all the time, but he doesn't mind making an exception to the rule every once in a great while. And getting an invite to a charity event at the Smithsonian to preview the newly updated Captain America Exhibit is definitely worth putting on a tux and walking the red carpet. 

Especially when it means he gets to walk said red carpet with Captain America himself, in the world’s most form-fitting tux, on his arm.

It also helps that everyone has been giving Steve (and TJ, by proxy) a wide berth so far. TJ's sure it won't last – they'll both be expected to make the rounds and shake all the hands and schmooze before too long – but the reprieve is nice. Especially since it's giving him and Steve a chance to wander the exhibit in relative privacy, without anyone breathing down Steve's neck asking for his reactions to everything. Steve seems to have a sense of humor about the whole thing, but TJ’s been to enough exhibits and retrospectives about his own family to know it’s never easy to see your life on display for all the world to see.

Thankfully, the Smithsonian has chosen to go the tasteful route and mostly focused on Steve’s years in the Army and as leader of the Howling Commandos, and tied it into the greater European Theatre World War II exhibit.

"You know, I know this is weird as hell for you, but even you gotta admit they did a really nice job with this thing," TJ observes, glancing around the room in admiration. The museum had gone all out – there are tons of interactive demonstrations, lots of old photos and newsreels of Steve and the Commandos, tons of artifacts from the War (TJ doesn't even want to think about all the legwork in securing and authenticating all the items), and an entire separate section on Erskine and the science behind Project Rebirth.

"Yeah, they really did their research," Steve replies, with an abashed smile. "I can't believe some of the things they have on display. I mean, who cares about my old sketchbooks or my Army fatigues from Basic?"

TJ sweeps a hand towards the crowd, all nibbling on passed tray hors d'oeuvres and sipping slightly flat champagne as they wander through all the displays. "You underestimate yourself. People are curious about the man behind the myth."

"I'm kind of boring."

TJ laughs, slips his hand into Steve's, and leans close, breath tickling Steve's ear. "I've got marks all over my body that tell a _very_ different story."

Steve flushes slightly, and knocks his shoulder against TJ's. But he doesn't let go of TJ's hand. "None of that. You promised to behave tonight."

"I _am_ behaving. I didn't go into detail about how I can still feel your tongue deep in my –"

Steve cuts him off with a swiftly given kiss and a warning bite on his lower lip. "I'm not fucking you in the bathroom, so don't start."

"Not even if I tell you about all the times I used to jerk off to your I Want You poster when I was a teenager..."

Steve's blush intensifies. TJ knows from personal experience that it goes all the way down, too. "Nice try, but no," Steve says, his voice hoarse and rough and sexy as fuck.

"Spoilsport," TJ replies, deeply saddened by Steve's stubborn wrongness. A quickie in the men's room is an _excellent_ idea. "Minus ten points for being all boring and vanilla."

"I've been called worse," Steve replies, unconcerned.

"By who? Be sure to send 'em my way so I can set Nana on them."

Steve smiles. "My hero.”

"I like the sound of that," TJ says, and chases Steve's delighted laugh with another lingering kiss. Pats himself on the back for the slightly dazed, horny look on Steve's face as he pulls away. "Can I at least say that I'm going to have a lot of fun peeling you out of your tux later?"

Steve brings their joined hands up to his lips to kiss TJ's knuckles. "I was kind of hoping we'd be in too much of a hurry to fuck to do more than shove our pants down over our hips. Maybe even make do with just spit as lube..."

TJ blinks, stunned, and so hard he's sure his erection is visible from across the room. "Sweet Jesus..."

Steve just smiles, beatific and far too sweet for the mental picture he'd just painted. "I did warn you what would happen if you started."

It takes TJ a few precious seconds to regain the power of speech. "That wasn't..." he sputters. "I was just...you're such an _asshole_."

"Yeah, but you like me like this."

"I _love_ you," TJ corrects, "but that's not the point. Are you sure we can't just take a five minute break behind a plant or something?" Ducking behind the big mannequin display showcasing all of the Howling Commando costumes is beginning to sound more and more appealing by the second. The way TJ's feeling, he might not even need the full five minutes to get off.

"If I promise to do whatever you say when we get back home, you think you could keep things PG for the rest of the night?"

TJ lifts an eyebrow. "Whatever I say?" He's already got so many ideas. So, so many. Like, enough for the next week.

" _Whatever_ you say," Steve repeats, with a heated, hooded look and a tiny smirk that promises _all_ the fun times later.

TJ clears this throat. Exhales. Thinks about Nana and Dougie doing the naked mamba until his erection dies down and he can think clearly again. "Deal," he croaks out.

"Good," Steve replies, and gives him another sweet, soft kiss. "I look forward to following your orders. Sir."

All of the blood in TJ's body goes racing south to his crotch again. His hard-on is going to be a permanent fixture at this rate. " _Goddammit_ , Steve..."

Steve just grins and squeezes his hand. "I'm glad you approve. Now, let's get the social niceties out of the way so we can get home and have hot tux sex."

TJ nods dumbly and follows Steve like a wayward puppy. He is – and it’s officially official – the luckiest fucking man alive.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can now find me on [Tumblr](brendaonao3.tumblr.com). :)


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